Today was such a peculiar day. It felt more like spring with the mildness and the heavy clouds dripping sporadic rain. Walking to my car this afternoon with the smell of wet earth everywhere had me thinking of seeds and new gardens, plant catalogs and wish lists. Then reality chimed in and said, “Um, it’s August, you know. You want more plants? Then have at those weeds you’ve been pretending aren’t there.”
But right about now I begin to think of weeds as future soil biomass. Then I don’t feel quite as guilty when they get rowdy in the garden. I just push them over, layer with mulch, compost and forget. Yeah, I’m one of those gardeners. And that’s not to say that I don’t get ridiculous amounts of joy from my dirt patch, it’s just that when autumn rolls around something switches off in my brain. The garden is tired and so am I.
Like any green thing I need my little break, a dormancy, before resuming business as usual. My winter is coming slowly and quietly. ( It’s still a ways yet, but I can smell it creeping in the mornings.) It stretches from the day after Halloween to the day after New years. That’s all I need. Anything after that is holding my breath till spring. I do, however, enjoy a good autumn. Its hard not to admire the colors, especially here near the Blue Ridge where the color stretches up in great waves on the mountains and hills. But there’s a tiny sadness in every gold and crimson leaf. One last hurrah before we see each other again.
This year I am determined to combat that. I’ll have my little rest, then there will be seeds to clean and trade, bulbs to force and give away, and I think I’ll treat myself to a houseplant, now that I’ll finally have some light. This year I’m not waiting for a winter solstice and a planetary rotation to bring back the light. In the dark part of the year I’m going to make my own little spring.
